


man idk

by knivesnight (EgNogg)



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Light Bondage, Multi, based on a fic by whenthetimescomes !, dont read this its porn, gable is kinda bad at this but theyre cute so its ok, go read whenthetimescomes’ fic tho, if u saw me randomly switching pov in the middle of this no u didnt💜, margaret soft domme vibes i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27541807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EgNogg/pseuds/knivesnight
Summary: Margaret hasn’t known either of them for very long but it’s obvious neither is used to being an active party in these situations. If not for her they probably would’ve danced around their mutual feelings for the rest of eternity. Which wouldn’t have been great, but Margaret has to admit it’s fun watching them fumble with each other like this.
Relationships: Gable/Margaret/Travis Matagot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	man idk

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Bower Scene](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369454) by [whenthetimescomes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenthetimescomes/pseuds/whenthetimescomes). 



> i think it would be cool if pirates fucked in the sky

“Gable dearest, wouldn’t you like to pay some attention to Travis?”

As if on cue he’s making a show of pulling at the ribbon around his wrists, making breathy sounds high in his throat and giving Gable a pleading look that says _Oh I seem to have gotten myself in a bit of a tangle, if only some big strong angel could come help me_. 

Gable would roll their eyes if they could look away. There’s a fair amount of irony to the distressed harlequin novel protagonist act he’s putting on but it tugs at the Righteous Savior instinct in the back of their mind nonetheless. And performance as it is, Travis is good at it. 

Margaret slides off their hips and the second they can get their legs back in working order they’re on him. Travis hums against their mouth as one hand slips under his shirt and the other over the fabric between his legs. Undoing the rest of his buttons one-handed isn’t easy but Gable isn’t pitiless, after just watching all this time surely he deserves _some_ friction.

He grinds against their palm, trying to cover the desperation in his sighs with annoyance. He can’t get much leverage with his hands tied. “ _Dearest darling angel_ Gable can you _please_ hurry up.”

“If I rip something you’ll get mad at me so no.”

He huffs again, breath going shaky as Gable’s lips follow their hands down his neck, his chest, his stomach, his hipbone. 

Margaret settles in next to Travis, leaning back against the headboard. She watches greedily as Gable hooks a thumb into his trousers and sticks two fingers from their other hand into their mouth. 

Travis bucks his hips with a groan. “I can do it, just- mmph—” 

With Travis slicking up their fingers Gable’s mouth is free to focus on his dick. But instead they keep to the inside of his thigh, their lips and teeth trailing just above his waistband as they slide his pants the rest of the way down his legs, until-

“Agh—fuck!” Their face twists into a hissing grimace. “Why??”

Travis doesn’t try to speak around the hand he just bit but the glare he gives them is clear. _Get going already._

“Fine.” They toss his pants to the side before pulling their fingers out and jamming one back in the other end. Before he can adjust Gable takes him down to the hilt and his breath hitches with a gasp, coming out shallow and ragged when he finds it again. Evidently Gable wasn’t ready either, with the choking noises sputtering up from their throat. 

Margaret reaches for the bottle on the nightstand. “We have oil, you know.”

“Oh, no need,” Travis says with a tight smile, voice strained but more or less under control. He rocks himself back onto Gable’s now two fingers for emphasis with only the barest hint of a wince. Gable still isn’t coming up for air, but for a slight nod when Margaret asks if they’re alright. So she doesn’t intervene; best to let them both have their little one-upmanship contests now and then. They’re more durable than most people anyway.

Not long after Travis’ breath evens out it’s picking up speed with the effort of trying to thrust into Gable’s mouth and fuck himself on their fingers at the same time, punctuated by soft almost-whimpers when he hits the right spot. It’s a nice sound for Margaret to have right beside her ear. Almost as nice as Gable from this angle. Given their height it must be a sight as rare as it is lovely—their chest pressed against the mattress; the curve of their shoulders, their back, their ass; big eyes peering up at her through silver hair. She imagines running her hand through it, maybe letting her grip go tight and yanking them down harder onto Travis. From the way he pulls against his bonds Margaret guesses he’s thinking the same thing. She settles for pushing a few white locks up off their forehead. 

Part of the pleasure in a seven foot tall deathless swordsperson looking to her for approval (notably her rather than Travis) is just how _clumsy_ they are at this. Their brow furrows and their eyes screw shut every time he hits their throat because they clearly don’t do this very often. Their fingers are proportionally as large as the rest of them but Travis rolls his hips like he’s chasing something that Gable, despite their efforts, isn’t giving him. 

It’s cute. Margaret hasn’t known either of them for very long but it’s obvious neither is used to being an active party in these situations. Travis is handsome enough to get away with putting minimal effort into most areas of life, and should Gable want company they really just have to wait for someone at any given port to throw themselves at them. If not for her they probably would’ve danced around their mutual feelings for the rest of eternity. Which wouldn’t have been great, but Margaret has to admit it’s fun watching them fumble with each other like this. The frustrated tension in just this moment—let alone the past however many years—is exhilarating to be around. Margaret almost feels bad she’s not paying _them_ for the high she’s getting from it. 

So instead of feeling bad she decides to let them both off the hook a little bit. She lightly taps her middle and ring finger against Travis’ lips before pushing in. The way he swirls his tongue around them and flicks the tip at the skin between could make a lady in a different line of work lightheaded. She chuckles and presses a kiss to his jawline before getting up to take Gable’s place between his legs. It really is endearing how hard they’re both trying to impress her.

She places a gentle hand on Gable’s wrist. A disappointed sigh slips out of Travis along with their fingers but it’s only a second before hers are there to replace them. What Margaret lacks in relative size she more than makes up for in experience. She crooks them just _so_ and Travis throws his head back with a yelp, back arched, toes curled, heels digging into the bed.

“ _Fuck!_ Yes, there, fucking _god_ Margaret, _shit_.”

Gable “hm”s flatly around Travis (which draws another slight squeak from him) but judging by how their gaze is fixed on him the excitement of seeing him undone by somebody besides Her Evergreen Majesty isn’t all that dampened by it not being _them_.

Travis looks at her with something akin to betrayal when she nudges Gable off of him. She cinches her hand around the base of his dick and he laughs. It’s a fragile, faltering sound. Almost pained. “Hah—now you’re just being _cruel_.”

Margaret twists her fingers again and his voice jumps another register. He’s not wrong. “If you need me to let up just tell me, Mr. Matagot.” 

He tosses his head to the side, nose in the air in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know I can be a very patient man if I want to be.”

“And where was this patience when you _bit_ me ten minutes ago?”

“I said if I _want_ to be. Ten minutes ago I wanted to bite yo— _aah_ — _oh god Margaret,_ ”

“You just watch for now,” she whispers against Gable’s neck—as if they need to be told—and pushes his knees farther apart with her elbow so they can get a better view of what she’s doing. 

Another sharp thrust in, a slow drag back out just long enough for him to catch his breath before she forces another gasp or bitten-off curse out of him. She switches up the rhythm each time to keep him from catching on too quick. When he does, rocking in time with her, angling for _faster_ and _harder_ and _more_ than she’s letting him have, she gives it to him. Hitting him right where he’s most sensitive until his shouts melt into a drawn-out whine, until that fractures into something like sobs.

“ _Margaret I, ah, I can’t- oh fuckfuckfuck Gable, please-”_

“Do you hear that?” Margaret releases her hold around him to rest her hand on the nape of Gable’s neck. “He wants _you_ to do the honors.” 

There’s that same spark in their eye from before, when she was first asking if they wanted to pay him some attention. With their past they’ve no doubt seen a thousand different unworthy people beg them for mercy, and that Gable might’ve extended it, or not, or waited until the penitent had sung sufficient praises only to smite them anyway, but this Gable just follows Margaret’s hand as she guides them back down onto Travis. She moves them slowly, deliberately, from base to tip and lingering there before sinking back down again, in stark contrast to the unrelenting pace she’s keeping inside him. 

She keeps that light pressure on their neck and the much more acute one on his nerves as Travis buries his face in his shoulder with a cry, as something stutters in Gable’s throat, as his arms go slack against the ribbon. She keeps going until Travis is stammering and kicking weakly at their shoulder.

“St- Gable, stop, I’m done, I’m done.”

They lean in for a kiss to let him deal with his own mess and he shakes his head, already having a hard enough time catching his breath, so they grab the nearest piece of fabric to spit into, which happens to be his pants.

“So suddenly you’re okay with ruining my clothes,” he says, voice low and hoarse from drowsiness and recent strain. There’s not much bite to it, he doesn’t have the energy to keep up his end of the dynamic for much longer. Margaret returns to his side to untie him. He waves vaguely in Gable’s direction with his first free hand. “Well now you have to go fetch me some clean pants.”

“Going so soon?” Margaret coos, winding the ribbon into a neat loop around her knuckles.

“No, I just have to be _decent_ before sunrise.” His other hand idles in her curls on the way down from the bedpost. “Or maybe I don’t, I don’t really care.”

“No, you do,” Gable says, swiping their clothes up off the floor. “Because I’m not going to be the one explaining to Jonnit why he can’t be in the room when you transform back.” 

“I got caught mid-bath.”

“This is a boat Travis we are on a boat.”

He sighs, letting his head fall back onto Margaret’s lap. “I have another pair by my hammock.”

They fumble with their buttons for a couple seconds before giving up and wrapping their coat tighter around their middle, looking very conspicuously like someone trying very hard to look normal and not disheveled and half-dressed. They didn’t bother with boots.

Margaret shifts so she’s lying on her back, Travis’ cheek to her chest and his arm draped across her waist. “Gable?”

Their hand freezes on the doorknob.

“You did great.”

“Yes Gable, you were _wonderful_ ,” he chimes in, his usual resistance to complimenting them overcome by the need to see their face get even redder.

“Well I- well—, w-” They’re squinting, pointing an accusatory finger in Travis’ direction, the same way they always do when scrambling for a comeback. “You know what? You know what? You kn-” The door slams behind them before they can say.

**Author's Note:**

> ya sry that was rly abrupt lol idk how to end shitt


End file.
